fo real i had a blunt, level interlude of inspirational thought, delicate, effusive, sincere, trickling, cajoling, shocking. Nothing like what i'm writing now, but like real life. Clearthought. Like i ran across a minefield without gettin blowed up. And i hollered a string of words that made the cackling gunmen spare my life right then and there. And yet i didn't even know their language. Full-out, just miraculous. I nudged it along just a little, maybe, at points. But i just cant ever say where that whole big thing comes from, or where it goes when it's done.
Anyway, i wasn't writing it down at the time. I considered, but i couldn't really afford the bandwidth necessary to locate the pad and pen, any of the many pads and pens, while there was this whole other big thing going on. I made peace with it quickly. I was also originally looking for something else, and that was still weakly happening back in the deep background. What the hell was it...? Man that's gonna bother me. I can remember some shapes, and the ideas of the afternoon light angling in at me at all angles of kitchen table and floor.
I'm pacing... I look in the fridge. That's pretty normal behavior when I'm pacing. Not exactly calling anything to mind right off the bat... I'm visualizing like some sort of... Egg? Could be just an errant thoughtstream in there, intersecting everything else. What was I looking for? I'm super-interested in this, because I remember firmly that the object of my search--its name, whatever it was--was a part of a recurring chant that spiraled about the heart of the blunt, level interlude of inspirational thought.
fuckin a, it'll come to me. but you get the shape. curly tendril, curvaceous razor. Playstation screensaver phenomena, but like real life.
Anyway, i wasn't writing it down at the time. I considered, but i couldn't really afford the bandwidth necessary to locate the pad and pen, any of the many pads and pens, while there was this whole other big thing going on. I made peace with it quickly. I was also originally looking for something else, and that was still weakly happening back in the deep background. What the hell was it...? Man that's gonna bother me. I can remember some shapes, and the ideas of the afternoon light angling in at me at all angles of kitchen table and floor.
I'm pacing... I look in the fridge. That's pretty normal behavior when I'm pacing. Not exactly calling anything to mind right off the bat... I'm visualizing like some sort of... Egg? Could be just an errant thoughtstream in there, intersecting everything else. What was I looking for? I'm super-interested in this, because I remember firmly that the object of my search--its name, whatever it was--was a part of a recurring chant that spiraled about the heart of the blunt, level interlude of inspirational thought.
fuckin a, it'll come to me. but you get the shape. curly tendril, curvaceous razor. Playstation screensaver phenomena, but like real life.
